Doomsday 1983: Aftermath
by Lady-Kiri
Summary: "A worldwide nuclear exchange caused by a minor incident obliterates much of human civilization." - This is the aftermath of this event, follow the survivors and their experiences.


**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** This will be a bit long, but please read.

 **1st Note:** This is a de-anon from the Hetalia Kink meme, I recently found it and decided to look through it and edit out some mistakes and since I can't exactly edit my original because it was posted as anon, republish it here. This was written for a request where the anon wnated to see the Hetalia anons in the "Doomsday 1983" scenario from alternate history wiki. I wish I could post links, but if you can search it on Google, I advice it because this story will make a lot more sense if you read it and it is actually really cool.

 **2nd Note:** This was actually one of my last works before I left the Hetalia fandom. Although I am sure I started this before I began working on my other de-anons. I actually forgot I was even working on this back then until I came across the WIP today. I never finished it, although there is no real story. It mainly focuses on the nation's reactions to this event and how they are continuing on with their lives. Each chapter was supposed to be based around a different character, there are some OCs (this is why you might want to check the Wiki page because there some new nations), but I will try to post info on them. As of now this will forvever remain a WIP. If I am ever bored I might do more chapters form other characters, but considering this is 4 years old and I haven't been on the fandom for almost that long-no promises.

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 **CHAPTER ONE: Canada.**

It was never easy loosing someone you loved, a trusted ally, close friend or a brother. It was almost dreamlike to think of how only a couple days before you had talked to that person. You had shared your goodbyes like the many times you had spoken with them—and then that was it. They were gone forever. To know that your last memory of that person was a simple call that had started with a fight. Canada had lost count of how many times he had thought about doing things differently.

After it was over, the bombings, even then he still had retained some hope that America had survived what had left so much of his country as wasteland. Because what could really bring down his brother? Nothing. America was supposed to be strong. No one could bring the big hero Alfred F. Jones down. But after years of searching and hoping—he knew his brother was gone.

After that he had been unable look at any of the other surviving nations for a long time after it had happened.

He'd learned the England was also missing, they hadn't found a body. But Ireland, who had suffered some damage himself, even as he tried to search for his siblings, finally broke down and admitted that the chances of survival where unlikely. He'd heard of France injuries months after, but somehow the French nation had managed to survive and to stay strong for his people.

America was declared death only months after England.

Canada had been tempted to write to the president. But each time he read what he'd written he had burned it. There was little he could say. He'd lost two of the people he had thought of as a family. He had his owns scars, having lost many of his own people too, watched his home destroyed. He couldn't even bare to think how the other countries were doing, their own scars.

Canada's heart sank each time he watched his people, the few survivors that fought to cling to what little they had left. Those, who like him, had lost loved ones. Had lost their homes and everything they had called theirs. Sometimes when he was unable to stay in his too large home and had to leave for some fresh air, he would walk besides them. They were deep down all that he had left.

Hating the fact that once he arrived home, he had no calls from angry British gentleman or obnoxious American bright young man too look forward too. It was almost funny, people noticed him now, now that America was gone people saw him. No more mistaking him for his brother. He was another broken country in the middle of the crowd of many. But he was still alive, which made him luckier than many others.

Sometimes when the pain became too unbearable, when there were no more tears he could spill after hours of crying, when he laid in a corner of his home, arms around himself. He wondered what it would have been like if America had survived.

He admitted to himself, he would have happily changed places with his brother. Just for a chance for America's bright smile to have been given another chance to shine. His brother had managed to make everyone feel better even in the worst of times. Canada was unable to do that, he was now almost a shell. What hope could he bring to anyone?

For the first time ever, he didn't want people to notice him. The cost for it wasn't worth it.

The first time the countries had all come together, the first meeting since that terrible day. Canada had avoided them all. Even France. He'd gotten a glimpse of Russia and something dark had boiled inside of him.

It hadn't been his fault. It had been such a terrible small mistake that had caused so much destruction for everyone involved. For the many innocents, who had lost their lives. But seen that childish soft smile on his face had affected Canada more than he was willing to admit.

Russia had lost his own sisters. Canada wondered if the large nation had cried over their deaths or if there really was nothing there. He must have had, no one could be so heartless. Maybe that's why he seemed even colder and more distant now.

Whatever it was, Canada was not the only one that seemed to have decided to keep their distance. Even while he tried to avoid others, he had encountered France.

There was a large scar that ran just below the nation's lip and down his neck. There were others, Canada saw a smaller ones on his hands, along with those hidden away. But that one caught his attention the most, it ruined what once had been the Frenchman's beautiful face. A closer look showed other, now fading, signs of burns on his face.

It must have been horrible for France, who had always been very vain about his looks, to have been marked in such a way. Yet the nation still found a chance to smile to Canada.

Canada chose to not think about his own scars. The physical injuries would heal and fade. The emotional ones would always remain.

He then passed Ireland and Scotland. Canada had been tempted to stop and give his condenses towards England. But in the end he was unable. He exchanged a few words with Australia and New Zealand before the meeting finally concluded.

When he arrived home that day, he laid in bed for hours after, silently letting the tears flow once more. He'd been glad to see many countries alive, reunited with friends. But it was impossible to ignore the many missing ones.

It suddenly hit Canada even harder to notice how many countries had been lost. It wasn't just America and England. There were so many others.

The second meeting was a bit easier. Somehow he was more prepared now, maybe because he now knew what to expect when he entered the building. He still felt like crying, but putting a strong face he walked into that building to meet everyone else.

Canada did not miss some of the new faces this time. Whenever a country was lost, others were born anew. It was no more different this time. They were still very young, couldn't be anywhere near over their teens. As he looked at them, Canada was reminded that these young faced nations had been forced to grow faster than any of them. Many were still facing turmoil in their own territories. It was a lot for such a young age. He felt pity towards them.

He did at first felt some resentment that they were replacing their old fallen friends. But it quickly faded once he began to think more into it. It was after all not their faults. They had been born into a broken world that was slowly healing. But it still had a long way to go. Many of them hadn't had an older brother, an England or a France, to help them along the way. But instead they had been forced to crawl and shape their own ways into the world.

During the third meeting Canada had crossed paths with Austria. While they hadn't been very close before the attacks, he was completely taken back by what he saw. The usually upright gentleman was a shadow of that person.

Canada remembered that Austria had lost Hungary, whom he'd been closer than anyone else, and North Italy and Germany, whom he'd basically helped if not raised.

Canada was tempted to walk and talk with him. But before he had a chance, someone else did. Canada was surprised to see no other than Prussia wrap an arm around the other. It was the first time he had seen the two countries not fighting.

It came to him that maybe those who had said that the devastation and losses would bring many of them together. He had seen some many other conflicts rise that he had almost forgotten about it.

For the first time in years, Canada found himself smiling. It wasn't anything bigger than a twitch of his lips. But it was the first one since he'd lost almost everything.

Canada turned around, leaving the two countries alone. He immediately found France and hugged the other country. France was at first taken back by his reaction, but still hugged him back. For the first time Canada cried in front of someone else. He was reminded he didn't have to go through his pain on his own.

He had lost America and England. But there was still France. He could also make new friends. It wouldn't be easy, but nothing ever was. If life would be easy, then nothing of what had happened would have happened. They wouldn't have to worry about wars and other conflicts.

"It hurts." Canada said as he tightened his grip. He hid his face in the other countries neck. The tears now pouring even more freely, wetting France's shirt, but it didn't seem to bother him. "I just miss them so much. It shouldn't have ended like this."

"I know mon amour." France didn't hide his own tears. "I miss them too. But you have to be strong. It's what they would have wanted."

Canada knew France was right. America would have been angry to see him in such a weak state. He would have wanted for him to look after everything, to follow after his steps. America was gone, but he was still around.

"The pain never fully disappears, but with time it becomes more bearable." France kissed the Canadian, before wiping his tears. "I promise."

Canada found himself believing that. He stepped away, it was time for the meeting to start and he didn't want to be late.

They talked about new findings. New reports coming from some of the territories, they had managed to start new communications. Some of the new countries went up and talked. They looked shyly at some of the older country at first, but quickly gained more confidence. They were the new generations, the future.

Others spoke about alliances and unification. They were disputes about claimed territories, food and medical shortages. But the fighting was almost normal, a reminder of previous meetings.

Canada was almost ready to expect America to go there and tell them about another of his 'great plans'. He almost cried again. But a warm hand around his own, kept him from it. France had tightened his grip, almost sensing his pain. It was a familiar gesture, one that France had used on Canada many times before during his colonial days.

When his turns to talk came it was harder since Canada didn't have France with him. But he still managed through them. As the meeting progressed it did became easier for Canada.

He would never manage to forget the others. He still cried over it, but the pain indeed became just bearable. He was able to keep them alive in his memory. In the new nations that were born from the land.

When he had first encountered one of the new nations that had been born from what had once been the United States, his heart had almost been broken once more, seen a familiar set of blue eyes. But it almost made him happy to know that his brother would live through them and the people that had survived. His people. These new countries were America's children, almost, and Canada would look after them in the same way he did after his brother.

"America, England, I miss you very much. I wish you were here to witness this world, to help rebuild it. The humans are so strong. Sometimes I'm jealous of them." Canada placed the roses in the bodyless grave. They had been unable to find bodies. It had been impossible to even pick anything apart from the destroyed buildings.

But Canada had taken some of the earth from both nations. It was a small marked grave. But it was enough. It gave him a place he could visit, pay his respects. "I guess I'll see you next week." With a sad smile, Canada turn around and drove back home, it was a long drive. He would write to France once he arrived.

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 **Characters this chapter:** Canada and France.

 **Mentions of:** Russia (please note he will not be called this here), Prussia and Austria.

 **Presumed Deaths:** America, England , Italy and Germany.


End file.
